


Dork

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Masturbation, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Still not exactly successful phone s*x.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 18
Kudos: 74





	Dork

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Nine times out of ten, Noctis hits the pillow and passes right out, but every once in a while some stray manga frame or sultry digital heroine worms into his brain, and he finds himself too hungry to slip off. He’s already eaten more than his fill—thanks to Ignis, who came by to cook him a whole casserole whilst wearing a tight pair of faux-leather pants and that one coeurl-print shirt that hugs his lithe figure like body paint. He forgot to take his driving gloves off until he was right in the kitchen, and then Noctis got to watch them slowly peel away, one finger caught between perfectly white teeth, green eyes lost behind thin glasses as he pondered what to cook—how best to serve his prince. And then there was training in the afternoon with Gladiolus—a beast of a man in low-riding jeans and no shirt at all, all sweat-slicked muscles and a cocky grin. Noctis found those hard pecs pinning him to the floor more than once, and at the time it was annoying, but in the darkness and privacy of his bedroom, it’s something else entirely.

Then there’s Prompto—sweet, beautiful Prompto, who couldn’t make it over but managed an online match in King’s Knight, and every time he lost, he made a groaning noise like someone’s big dick was stretching his tight ass wide open. 

That’s the main thing Noctis pictures as he drags his hand along his cock, coated in lube with the tissues ready on the nightstand. He’s got the blankets rolled down past his thighs, body hot, boiling up every time he gets a new idea—mainly reasons for Prompto to moan like that, whimpering and whining and all but pleading Noctis’ name, because the way he cries _Noct_ is so good. Too good. Other images occasionally flutter in—Ignis bent over the counter with his ass in the air, or Gladiolus flexing his chest one tit at a time, even the new DLC character in Justice Monsters X with the cleavage window in her armour. But mostly it’s Prompto just being _Prompto._

Noctis has a million and one real-life memories to draw on. He barely even has to delve into full fantasy territory. He corkscrews his hand down to the base and remembers squeezing into the changing rooms at the mall with Prompto to watch him wriggle into leggings. Then Noctis fondles his sac and remembers sitting on Prompto’s face the last time he stayed over. No matter what he does with his hands, it can’t feel anywhere near as good as Prompto’s tongue did on his balls. He bites his bottom lip and tries to recall every little detail of that feeling. He hates that he can’t run his fingers through Prompto’s hair. Can’t watch Prompto’s big blue eyes dilate black. Can’t rub his cock all over Prompto’s cheeks and come across his freckles. 

Noctis groans his own frustration and pleasure, twisting back up to the head. But no amount of rubbing it can match Prompto’s talented fingers, playing with Noctis’ foreskin like the triggers of his guns. In the moment, Noctis would give just about anything to see Prompto opening wide for him—a blowjob in return, all the games coming out next month, half the country, _anything._ Or even just to hear Prompto choke around his girth. 

He can at least hear part of that. Already at the edge but not _quite_ far enough to fall, Noctis reaches for the other pillow. His phones’ waiting there, asleep, and he fumbles with his lock code twice, even though he’s using his dry hand. But he gets there, and then he’s cycling through contacts, deliberately not stroking himself because he can’t risk messing that part up and dialing someone else instead. Not that he has a whole lot of contacts in the first place. But if he ever phoned Clarus or Cor in the middle of jerking off, he’d never live it down. 

He taps Prompto’s picture—an innocent shot of him holding an enormous chocochick plushie. The phone rings, and even though it’s almost one in the morning, he’s not surprised when Prompto answers. Prompto _never_ lets him down.

Prompto sleepily mumbles, _“Hello?”_

And Noctis skips right to, “Hey. What’re you wearing?”

There’s an understandable pause. Noctis is stroking himself again, long and languid, hoping the wet sounds of the lube aren’t too loud and also not caring. He knows his rapid breathing will probably give him away. But Prompto won’t judge him. Prompto always says he thinks Noctis is the hottest thing in the world and that he’s been jerking off to Noctis’ picture since highschool. 

Noctis’ crush has been about as long in the making. He still can’t quite remember when those mutual crushes crossed the line into light touches, into hesitant kisses, into full-on making out and then handjobs and then blowjobs and then Noctis bending Prompto over his a desk at the Citadel and fucking his brains right out of his pretty blond head.

Finally, Prompto mutters, _“Uh... do you want a sexy answer or the real one?”_

Noctis doesn’t have the wherewithal to make a proper decision. It all sounds good to him. Prompto’s _always_ sexy. Deliberately sexy Prompto is even sexier, but he’s leaning towards truth, because Prompto’s one of the few people who he can trust to be honest with him. He huskily decides, “Real one.”

Prompto makes a muffled noise, then yawns right into the phone, before blearily slurring an apology and answering, _“My chocobo jammies.”_

Another time, Noctis might laugh, because he knows those pajamas all too well and knows they’re meant for twelve-year-olds. But they fit Prompto well enough and are super soft, delightful to cuddle up to—Noctis always cocoons around him extra tight when he’s wearing them. When they get to sleep over together. Noctis wishes they could do that all the time. He keeps wondering why they’re not living together already. Picturing his beloved bestie in that familiar outfit, he breathes, “Cute.” Prompto’s _so cute._ And all _Noctis’._

_“Yeah, I like them.”_

“What’re you doing right now?”

He’s obviously not touching himself like Noctis is—he sounds out of it, but in a sleep-ridden way, not the harried, over-heated way Noctis is. It’s getting to the point where Noctis should probably slow his strokes to stave it off, but his hand’s on auto-pilot and can’t seem to stop. He wants to take his time but also wants to come. Preferably on Prompto. It sucks that’s not an option at the moment, although Prompto would probably get up and catch a taxi if Noctis asked. It takes real effort not to do so. 

_“Well, it’s one-thirty a.m., so... just kinda lying here.”_ He was probably fast asleep. But he keeps his phone on full volume and next to the bed in case his darling prince calls. 

“Then what’re you thinking about?”

Maybe he’s also thinking about that time the crown rented out an entire public swimming pool for Noctis’ birthday and they did about two laps before devolving into Prompto fucking him over the side of the deep end. 

But Prompto mumbles, _“That city level in the Justice Monsters X gold cup. Maybe we should try it with different tires. Like, yeah, we already put so much time into building our custom car, and I know you wanted to stick to it, but... I mean, it’s been two weeks and we still can’t even get second place...”_

It’s not exactly sexy. But they did have a minor fight over building that custom car, and Prompto’s really hot when he’s angry. Noctis pictures that while Prompto rambles, _“So we picked the base for speed and everything, and I get that makes sense, but like, I feel like the tires didn’t have great speed stats anyway, so maybe we should go for something else? Like, one with good traction or handling or something. Yeah, it’s a race and speed’s number one, but if the ride’s smoother and easier to control...”_

“Fuck, I wanna ride you,” Noctis groans, latching on to that. “Fuck you real smooth, push you down for it, _control you_...”

Prompto laughs. Usually, he’d moan. He _loves_ when Noctis gets controlling. It doesn’t happen all that often. Noctis is mostly a pillow princess, and he’s always happy to do and try whatever Prompto wants. But there are also times where he just gets that _fire_ in him and needs to _possess_ Prompto in every sense of the word. He still has the dog collar tucked in his drawer from that time they pretended Prompto was his pet, and he made Prompto walk on all fours and lick milk out of a bowl. 

_“Man, could you imagine if you could ride the characters in that game? Like piggy-backs? But still at super high speed? That’d be hilarious. They should put that in the stadium DLC.”_

That’s when he realizes that he sealed his fate by picking ‘real’ instead of ‘sexy’, and Prompto’s really just going to keep being _Prompto_ : an ultra nerd. Unless Noctis flat out says he wants phone sex, this is what he’s going to get. 

But honestly, he likes this side of Prompto so much that he can’t even care—nerdy Prompto _is_ sexy. So cute. They’ve jerked each other off or resorted to clothed humping on the couch whilst playing games too many times to count, and Noctis has just as much fun in those moments as he does in the completely naked, wildly kinky moments. He thinks about Prompto curled up in a nest of Noctis’ blankets, square in the middle of the couch cushions, leaning on Noctis’ shoulder, paying rapt attention to the screen while Noctis innocently rubs his inner thigh. And sure Prompto might whine at him, but Noctis would order Prompto to _keep playing_ , and Prompto would do his best to win the race while Noctis kneaded his crotch until he came in his pants. 

Noctis realizes dazedly that Prompto’s still talking, contemplating future updates and shortcuts they could take on the map, and Noctis half listens, but mostly just _listens_ : letting Prompto’s adorable voice roll over him in waves. Even the vivid images melt away under that, until it’s nothing but Prompto purring in his ear, and Noctis screams as his cock spurts thick white jets all over his hand. 

He pumps it out, breathless but groaning, hating that Prompto’s gone silent but loving that he has Prompto in his life. Sure, the others are hot, but... _Prompto_. He’s _everything_.

Noctis is even more grateful to him in the hazy aftermath. Spent and heavy, Noctis lies in a sticky pool of his own sweat, especially damp across his stomach, still gripping the phone for dear life. His fingers have tensed up around it, while the rest of his body’s lax and pliant. 

Prompto asks, _“Did... did you just do what I think you did to Justice Monsters Balloon Toss?”_

To be fair, he thought Prompto was still talking about Justice Monsters X, which is the far superior spin-off title. “No, I did it to you.”

Prompto makes a noise—a stifled laugh. He’s adorable. Noctis adds, “I love you.”

 _“Love you too.”_ And he doesn’t hesitate for one second over it. _“So what do you think, can we change the tires on the Gladdy-Daddy Caddy?”_

“Definitely not. We already made it with the best stats. And we’re not renaming it to that either; I keep telling you there’s not enough characters. It’s the Ig-bus.”

_“That’s not as funny.”_

“Iggy liked it.”

_“Then Iggy’s a bad advisor.”_

“How dare you.” Ignis is the _best_ advisor and they both know it. But Prompto’s probably too tired to realize what blasphemy he’s just spewed. Rather than argue the point, he yawns. Noctis almost feels guilty for keeping him up.

But Noctis feels too satiated to feel truly guilty. So instead he gets worse, sighing, “Alright. How about you try and convince me again. I wanna fall asleep to the sound of your voice.”

Prompto snorts. But he starts talking, and Noctis quickly pulls out some tissues to wipe himself down before rolling up in a bundle of blankets and letting his dream-guy lull him to dreamland.


End file.
